Don't Pull the Trigger (Demonstuck) ON HOLD

Reader ===> Be Different Team

You are now a different team of Demon fighters. Or Demon fighter. You are all alone, you have been for most, if not all of your life. Running around and killing those bastards has given you tons of advantages and advice to yourself. Name?

English. Jake English.

Although, you miss your friends, you prefer to be alone. Don't want to see your friends die because of you now, don't we? You held on to your pistols, jumping over fallen branches and dead animals. Sometimes you landed on them and it wasn't a very nice thing to do. Hell, it even grossed you out. But that didn't matter whatsoever. Your goal is to find some sort of shelter other than a tree for the next sunset. That's the only two times you know. Sunset and rise.

On your search, you just had to get snagged in a trap. Now you are dangling from a net that was firmly tied around a branch and swinging about three feet above.

'Clever bastards...' You mumble to yourself as you try and escape. Normally you had your knife and guns with you, but like an idiot, you left them in a tree for safe keeping until you could find food. You really are dumb. Maybe you should have some company. Before you could curse to yourself even more, a rustling noise filled your ears. You looked up to see a Demon staring back at you with orange eyes.

" ¥øü ßééµ ß†üç˚..."He spoke in gibberish, making you slink back into the net. He approached your net, handing you a bag of supplies. Opening them, you are relieved and a bit pissed to see your gun and knife.

"Hey, these are mine!" You look at him, and he nods. This is the moment you realize a Demon has helped you. "Uhhh...Why are you...helping me..?" Taking the knife and beginning to slide it back and forth on the rope, he shrugs.

"î ˙høñé߆¬¥ ∂øñ† ˚ñø∑" He rubs the back of his neck, watching as you break free and jump to the ground. Placing the gun in your holder and the knife in your boot, you look up at him. "Ñåmé'ß 'Dî'®k." He holds out his hand, making you flinch. Reaching your hand out cautiously, you take it and shake.

"I'm Jake...English." He smiles and repeats, your name rolling off his tongue.

"Jåké." You smile sheepishly and nod. "†˙hé®é îß å çåµπ ø√é® ñø®†˙h." You cock your head in confusion. He places a hand on his face and points North. "†˙hé®é." Looking in that direction you see a small glow. It seems to be a camp, and you look back at him.

"Oh, I can't go to a camp Dirk-"

"¥øü ñéé∂ å π¬åçé †ø ß†å¥ †˙hå†'ß ßåƒé." He states firmly, gesturing you to move. Keeping your eyes on him, you move North. When you take your eyes away and look back, he is gone. You place your hand on your gun and keep walking, the sound of birds and crickets chirping filling the air. It's turning dark.

You hear a rustle in front of you, followed by gleaming purple eyes.

    And it's turning, fast.